


You Know My Days Are Cold Without You

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Arguing, Barebacking, Bucky's Big Coat, Bucky's the Man for the Job, Couch Sex, Established Relationship, LOTS of ORAL, M/M, Oral, Protective Bucky, Scolding, Skinny!Steve, Steve Needs Warming Up, The Author Is An Awful Person, The Author Regrets Nothing, This is Definitely Fluff, Tumblr otpprompt, horribly cold disgusting east coast winters, very mild angst, worried Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets caught in the cold, unprepared and not loving it. Bucky has his back.</p><p>Tumblr prompt: During winter person B didn't bring their jacket and their nose was turning pink. Person A saw them and handed them their jacket, which person B put on even though it was oversized on them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know My Days Are Cold Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Time for some short fluff. My chaptered stories are all stuck.

Bucky stamped his feet, feeling his toes stinging as he tried to coax some feeling back into them from his long wait at the bus stop. Steve was a half an hour late to meet him, and he said he was getting off on the northbound bus on Main. "C'mon, Rogers," Bucky muttered aloud from under his scarf, face muffled against the biting wind. It was another gorgeous Brooklyn winter day at a generous five degrees. Bucky's gray-blue eyes watered and he kept his gloved hands tucked into his pockets, where he had wads of crumpled newspaper stuffed to further insulate his hands. "C'mon, Stevie..." He stopped a man stooping down for a copy of the Daily Bugle for a moment. "Buddy, do ya have the time?" His words sounded unsteady through his chattering teeth.

"Quarter to five," he huffed. "You waiting on the bus?"

"For my friend."

"Hope he gets here soon, pal. This weather ain't fit for a dog." The man rushed off, holding onto his hat before it could blow off. It was already getting dark out, too.

Bucky craned his head around the small gathering of passengers waiting on the bus, looking over the sea of car headlights for the distinctive banner. Bucky felt a flare of hope and relief when it pulled up. He ignored the chorus of grumbles and cheers as everyone lined up to get on, stepping back to let the disembarking riders get off. Bucky peered through the foggy window and thought he saw the top of Steve's blond head. A spike of aggravation soon followed. Where the hell was his hat?!

Steve stumbled down the three tall steps, wearing only the outfit Bucky left him in that morning before work, his winter boots, and a ratty old blue scarf. His gloves and hat were missing - Bucky was at his wit's end - and most conspicuously, so was his coat. An onlooker shot Steve a look of horror.

"Where's yer coat, for cryin' out loud, pal?" Steve gave the guy a dirty look. He turned back to Bucky, and his face pleaded with him. His cheeks and lips were chapped, his nose was bright red, and alarmingly, his lips were blue.

" _Stevie._ " Bucky's voice brooked no nonsense and demanded an explanation.

"Before ya ask, Bucky, _don't ask._ "

"Are you kiddin'? Stevie, look at you!" Bucky yelled incredulously. He grabbed Steve, arm hooking him in against him as if to shield him from the icy drafts.

"Bus... w-was almost warm," Steve stammered, feeling the elements catching up to him again.

"Please tell me you didn't walk all that way to the bus stop like this!"

"I'd never lie to ya, Buck. Wish I could."

"Wish you would," Bucky snarled. "Damn it, Stevie..." Bucky picked up the pace, dragging Steve along at a good clip, making him struggle to keep up with his long legs. But the longer they stayed out in that mess, the more likely it was that Steve would turn into an icicle. His movements were stiff and he was still chattering.

"Forget this," Bucky muttered. "C'mere." He tugged Steve into a nearby pharmacy for the sake of the reprieve from the blistering winds. "I can't stand t'look at ya like that, Stevie." He tugged him over to the magazine racks and began to unbutton his coat. Steve's face worked itself into a frown, a protest on his blue lips.

"Nuh-uh. No, you don't, Bucky… aw, Buck!” The warmer air of the pharmacy was making Steve’s hands sting as feeling slowly returned, and it was horrendous. Steve’s words only made Bucky’s fingers work at the fastenings more quickly.

“Bundle up, chump. And quit yer yappin’.” He shucked the heavy wool coat and wrestled Steve into it.

"Bucky, it doesn't make any sense for you to be cold, too! It won't take us long to get home!"

"You've been out in that mess out there too long as it is, Stevie!" Bucky told him indignantly. "I ain't watching you walk another step out there without a coat."

"Don't be a damn hero," Steve groused, but the coat was already off, and Steve grudgingly turned around, giving Bucky his back and lifting his arms slightly. Bucky took his arms and finagled them into the sleeves.

"Stubborn," he muttered. "Stubborn and hardheaded."

"Yeah, yeah..." Steve turned and faced him, throwing up his hands. "Happy now?" That gesture emphasized what Steve already figured out.

Bucky's coat was way, way too large on him. The tips of his fingers were barely sticking out from below the sleeve cuffs. The shoulder seams drooped down around his upper arms, and his reed-thin torso swam in the thick wool. Bucky's lips twisted. He looked like a kid playing dress-up in his dad's clothes. Steve fidgeted in the bulky garment, engulfed.

"Geez..."

"Don't even say anything, Bucky..." Steve gave him a warning look.

"I wasn't gonna..." But Bucky's eyes twinkled and his lips were spasming in an attempt not to smile.

"Ya look adorable, Short Stuff!" hooted a passerby at the counter where he paid for a pack of cigarettes. Steve shot him a dirty look, and Bucky spun on him.

"Nobody asked you!" Bucky snapped, but he turned back to Steve and began buttoning him up quickly.

"C'mon, Steve. I need smokes."

"Drink your milk, sonny, and you'll grow up big and strong!" the other customer yapped as he hustled out the door.

"Asshole," Bucky muttered. That guy knew good and well that Steve was no kid, with that deep voice, those big hands and feet, and the hint of blond stubble on his face, but everybody had to open their mouths. Bucky and Steve's old razors were dull, and they were long overdue but too strapped to buy new ones.

But Bucky still wanted some cigarettes, even though he wouldn't have much more than two nickels to rub together by the end of the week. He had another week before he started his job at the cannery, and his job on the dock ended five days prior. Steve had been fired the week before from the small diner down the street from their apartment because he couldn't keep up with the huge tubs of dishes in the back. His bad back kept him from being able to lift the huge stock pots when they were full, and they took a big hit when he lost that job, which had guaranteed him one free meal a day. Steve was checking up on a hotel janitor job that he applied for, and he promised he would meet Bucky when he was finished so they could go to the market.

Bucky went to the counter, and the cashier raised his eyebrows. "Gonna get lost in there," he muttered, smirking. Steve narrowed his eyes and gave him a _Ha-ha_ grimace and crammed his hands into the pockets. He was beginning to feel a little warmer already, but he was fretting over the prospect of going back outside with Bucky underdressed, now. Bucky was still bundled in his scarf and cap, and he had on two sweaters over his flannel shirt, and Steve knew he had longjohns on beneath his work jeans. But it wasn't going to be enough out there for the blistery night.

"Need anything else, Bucky?" Steve wanted to hesitate and give them another minute or two of warmth in the store, but Bucky wasn't having it.

"No. Let's beat feet. We need milk and a couple of other things, Stevie." Bucky steeled himself as he caught a glance out the front store window, noticing that the snow started again and was blowing horizontally instead of obediently drifting straight down. _Wonderful._ Bucky herded Steve outside before he could change his mind, hand pressed against his back.

No one gave them a second glance when he huddled closer to him on their rushing stumble to the market. It took Bucky ten steps down the street to feel the first real blast of cold air down to his bones, and he tried to stifle the curse that rose to his lips.

"Told ya," Steve muttered. "Shoulda listened, Bucky."

"When we get home, yer tellin' me how you lost your coat," Bucky promised. Steve's mouth snapped shut at that and he growled under his breath. Bucky tightened his muffler around his face and they pressed on. Steve wrapped a protective arm around him, not caring if anyone else saw. If the shoe was on the other foot this time, with Steve shielding his best guy, neither of them gave a damn. They rushed down the six blocks to the grocer's, and Bucky drew a hungry breath of the warmer air, shuddering as they shoved their way through the door.

They headed for the milk first, and Steve nodded to the dry goods. "How much have you got?" Bucky dug into his pocket and showed Steve the meager wad of bills. Steve shrugged.

"Tea would be nice."

"We need bread." Bucky headed for that aisle. "Go grab some lunch meat." Steve hustled toward the deli case and tried to stomp feeling back into his feet, hating the angry prickles in his soles. The butcher gave him a funny look.

"You're practically blue," he remarked.

"Don't even go out there," Steve told him. "It's miserable."

"I'm surprised you didn't blow away on a stiff breeze, pal. There's no meat on you." It didn't help that Steve was swimming in Bucky's big coat, continuing to feed that impression. The man peeked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him, and he ran the end of the log of bologna over the slicer a few more times after he'd already weighed Steve's order on its wrapper of butcher paper. Steve frowned.

"What're you doin'? I can't afford that!" he told him on an angry whisper.

"Don't worry about it." He wrote the price of the original weight on the wrapper before tying it up. "Just take it. Feed yourself up. A little extra fat on you wouldn't hurt in this weather, kid." Steve restrained the urge to tell him _I ain't a kid!_ It was pretty decent of him, after all.

"Thanks." He waved, and the butcher gave him a gruff look but winked before going back to his business. Steve rushed over to Bucky, where he was holding a meager armful of items, their week's food. To Steve's surprise, they included a small tin of cocoa powder.

"We have a little sugar left," Bucky told him. "Might as well have cocoa. Might warm us up a little more than tea."

"Ya like livin' high on the hog," Steve accused.

"Day like today needs a little treat." They headed to the clerk's counter, where their goods were bundled into a paper sack and they walked away with appallingly little change, but there was no help for it.

Steve waited until they were back in the cold and slush before admitting, "I got a break on the bologna. Guy shaved off a little more for the same price." Bucky barked a laugh through numb lips. He felt the cold pushing the air from his lungs and biting through his clothes. All of his layers felt paper-thin.

"That was probably the last of the loaf that they were ready to throw out, Steve!"

"Now, it's dinner." Steve threw his arm back around Bucky, leaning in toward him. The wind lashed their hair into their eyes, making them water, and Bucky cursed when he heard Steve sneeze. Their walk was blessedly short from the grocer's, but their skin burned and their fingers and toes felt dangerously numb. They tramped up the steps and burst through the front door, teeth chattering. The entry way was drafty, almost as frigid as outside, but they were finally out of the wind. They climbed the two flights of stairs to their tiny apartment, shedding clumps of snow from their boots. Bucky was making shuddery, teeth-chattering noises and rubbing his arms, blowing on his chapped, burning hands.

“That was shitty,” he growled. “Hurry up and unlock it, Steve!”

“Yeah, yeah! Gimme a minute!”

“I ain’t got a minute. I’m freezing my tookus off, Stevie! I need some heat!”

“I know,” Steve said guiltily.

“You’re still blue,” Bucky complained.

“You’re wearin’ a nice shade of it, too, Buck.” Steve crunched his key into the lock and then practically fell inside. Steve took care of the groceries and doing up the deadbolts and chain locks – they had several, because this was _Brooklyn_ \- and Bucky headed for the small space heater, so old that the edges of it were rusted, but it would do in a pinch. Bucky was still blowing on his hands and rummaging through the junk on the coffee table for the matches; his Zippo was in his coat pocket, which Steve was currently wearing, unwilling to part with it for the moment. Bucky grabbed the box of matchsticks and struck one, turned on the gas and lit the pilot light. The heat began to slowly radiate forth, throwing much needed warmth over his face and hands. Bucky knelt close and held his hands up over it to toast them up a bit, groaning in relief.

“Whaddya want on your sandwich, Buck?”

“We got any cheese?”

“Swiss. Just the last bit.” Steve was already trimming off the hard bits with a knife and laying them on slices of the bread they bought. “Got mustard, too.”

“Lay some on there,” Bucky told him. He sat back on his haunches and let the heat seep into his bones. “C’mon, Stevie. That can wait. You’re an ice cube. Come and warm up!”

“You’re starving,” Steve shot back. “Let me fix this, and I’ll sit over there with ya as long as ya want.”

“Then as long as you’re up, you can make the cocoa,” Bucky teased, grinning at him. Steve tsked. He’d been neatly snookered into that one. But Steve brought out their battered sauce pan and poured in some milk and sugar, then dumped in a couple of tablespoons of cocoa powder. It had been forever since they had hot chocolate, since things had been so scarce. It was hard not to worry every time they treated themselves to anything, when days went by that they didn’t know where they would get their next meal.

Steve let the cocoa simmer and began rummaging for various comfort items, including his sketchbook, the faded quilts from their beds, a deck of cards, a pair of Bucky’s heavy socks, and the pearl-handled Zippo from his coat pocket. Steve tossed him his pack of smokes. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

“Later, Stevie,” Bucky told him. “C’mon. Quit stallin’. You and me need to talk.” 

Steve sighed. “C’mon, Bucky…”

“I want a straight answer. Why didn’t you have your coat and hat?”

“Cuz I got mugged,” he told him simply, shrugging.

“What?!”

“You heard me,” Steve said. “Bastard took my watch, even though it wasn’t worth a plugged nickel. Got my wallet, too, but I had some money in my pants pocket. Thing is, he really wanted my coat. He had money to buy a mean-looking knife, but all he had on was a beat-up looking sweater himself. I could tell he was desperate.”

“So you let him take your coat?” Bucky was incredulous. “Steve! It’s dark outside and it’s freezing! I don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened to you, ya mook!”

“I wasn’t gonna get into a scrap with a guy holding a knife. It’s my own fault for taking my shortcut on the way to the bus stop.” Bucky knew the one he was talking about, past old lady Johnson’s laundry line and over the chain-link fence. Saved them three blocks whenever they were running late for the northbound. “Bucky, that guy looked like hell. He was all skinny and raggedy looking and I bet he hadn’t eaten in a couple of days.”

“Steve.” Bucky gave him a skeptical look. “It’s not like you have any more than that bastard did to your name. And is that pity I hear in your voice, Rogers?”

“Buck…”

“You better not have given that guy the clothes off your back to be nice, Steven Grant Rogers!” _Ooh._ Steve winced; it wasn’t often Bucky gave him the full name treatment. Embarrassment crept into Steve’s cheeks, making them color. “That’s it, isn’t it? Big knife, my ass. You gave that guy your coat and hat.” Bucky’s voice grew angry. “Why should I be surprised? And you’re gonna spin me a tale, Steve?”

Steve’s shame hung between them like damp laundry. “Bucky…”

“That’s it? No apology for worrying me sick? For scaring me half to death watching you walk off that bus all blue and cold, in the dark and damp? You don’t have the sense God gave a dog, Steve!”

“I don’t have the shitty tendency to be a selfish bastard when I see someone freezing on the sidewalk looking like they won’t last another day!” Steve’s face was twisted up in irritation, and he began unfastening the coat’s buttons, then whipped it off, stalking over to Bucky. He threw the coat at him roughly, hitting him in the face with it. “Here! Thanks a bunch for not making me feel like shit!”

“What the …!? Steve! STEVE!” Bucky’s voice was muffled from beneath the folds of his coat. When he freed his face from it, his dark curls were rumpled and sticking up. It would’ve been comical if Steve had been in a joking mood.

“You didn’t hafta give me your coat,” Steve told him angrily as he went back to the kitchen and stirred the cocoa, watching the clumps of cocoa powder slowly disintegrate and dissolve, pushing at them with spoon. “No one told ya to. I don’t need ya puttin’ yerself out like that, Bucky Barnes.”

“God… Steve.” Bucky staggered up from his crouch by the heater and went to the closet to hang up his coat. He took off his muffler and wrapped it around the neck of the hanger and finally went to work taking off his boots. “Do you think I could stand it if anything happened to you, Stevie?”

“That guy _did_ approach me, Bucky. And he was desperate.”

“But now, you need a new coat,” Bucky snapped. “They don’t grow on trees.”

“I’ll hit the thrift shop next week. I don’t have a lot of places I need ta go between now and then.” Steve’s tone was still gruff, but he could tell Bucky was trying to see his side, even if he still wanted to smack Steve.

“Great. Stranded in this rat hole until you get a coat.” Bucky sighed. “Don’t be a punk, Stevie. I have a jacket you can use for a while. Might not swallow you up like that coat. It’s not as warm, but it’ll help.” Steve still wore his grumpy face as he poured the cocoa into two mugs. “Please don’t do that again, Steve.”

“Fine. Quit naggin me, already, ya jerk.”

“ _I’m_ nagging? Well. Excuse the fuck outta me.” Bucky walked up behind him and pried at his scarf. “At least take that off.”

“Quit manhandling me!” 

“Just get comfortable!”

“I’ll do it in a minute!”

Bucky wrestled it off of him and went to hang it on the chair next to the space heater so it could dry, having taken more of a beating than Bucky’s. He dragged Steve back into a dining room chair, lightly shoving him into it. “HEY!”

“Take off your boots. You’re getting footprints everywhere. Not when it’s my turn to mop.” He bent down to work at the laces on Steve’s boots and grasped his calf under his arm, hating how cold the slender limb felt. “Jesus, Stevie, you’re still chilled.”

“Gettin’ warmer every minute. Be even better when I get a turn by the heater, since _someone_ made me get up and make dinner,” Steve reminded him. Bucky pinched Steve’s thigh in umbrage. “OW!” Steve reached over and pinched him back, but Bucky pinched him again and grabbed his calf. He poised his fingers over the sole of Steve’s vulnerable foot. “Oh! No, you don’t… Bucky, don’t look at me like that…!” Steve fought against him as Bucky mercilessly attached his foot, tickling it roughly. Jolts ran up Steve’s leg at the sensation, even more excruciating on his slowly thawing soles. Steve tried to kick him and shake him loose, but Bucky was too strong – from weeks of working on the docks, of course, the jerk – and Bucky held Steve’s leg captive against his ribs. Steve curled his leg around Bucky, trying to kick him in the chest, but it wasn’t working, not when the tickles were forcing choking laughter up from his chest. What he _was_ succeeding in doing was bringing Bucky closer to him, hemming his torso into the V of his thighs. 

“Say Uncle, Stevie! Say it!”

“Never!” Steve huffed through his giggles. 

“Say it, Steve!” Bucky yelped as Steve leaned over and caught him in a headlock, one skinny arm T-boned around his neck, but Bucky was laughing at his attempts. “You’ve got nothin’, Steve!” Both of them were laughing and breathless, and Bucky heard Steve’s low gasp. He relented, knowing that “breathless” and “Steve” were a bad combination, even if they were just having fun. “Goofy bastard,” he chuckled. He loosened his grip on his foot and gently kneaded it through his sock, sighing as he settled back against his sweetheart. Steve kept his leg loosely hooked around him, a familiar repose between them, and he combed his fingers through Bucky’s soft curls. It just felt good to be home, not for the meager heat or the old fixtures or drafty windows and the pitiful offerings of their icebox, even on the best of days.

Home meant Bucky Barnes. Plain and simple.

Steve tugged a lock of Bucky’s hair near his crown. Bucky leaned back to stare up at him. “What was that for- “ Steve’s hand slid around his taut neck, tracing his jaw and tipping it up, and Bucky made a sound of pleasure and need as he kissed him hard and slow. Bucky reached up and gripped Steve’s nape, urging him closer, threading fingers through his blond hair, and Steve moaned in approval. Those stubby fingertips, so often stained in ink or graphite pencil dust, traced Bucky’s throat and the knobs of his collarbones, finding the pulse that sped up from his attentions. Their breathing grew faster and uneven, and Steve thrilled to the sound of Bucky’s breaths catching, interrupted by the sounds of lips nipping, the faint stroking of tongues into damp, slick heat. Bucky hungered for him, devouring kisses from the smart pink mouth, ceasing his yapping and putting it to _much_ better use. Steve made needy sounds, just as enthralled by him, needing to explore the pliant, strong body sprawled and trapped between his legs. Bucky’s mouth fell open on another little gasp when Steve found his nipple through his layers of shirts.

“You’re wearin’ too much,” Steve grumbled.

“God, Steve…”

“Warm me up,” Steve told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Bucky twisted around against him, needing to face him and get closer and give himself over to every need and want, every feening and ache that was wrapped up in Steve Rogers and the maddening lure of that compact body of his. Bucky knelt and pressed himself into his embrace, arms locking around Steve as the little blond kissed him like it was the last time. Those slender legs wrapped themselves around Bucky’s hips and thighs, Steve’s ass teetering on the edge of the seat to meet him fully as Bucky ground against him.

“I’ll warm you up, Stevie,” Bucky promised between kisses. Steve’s blue eyes were dilated and dark as he cupped Bucky’s face in his hands.

“Not here. Bedroom.”

“Uh-uh. Couch.” He kissed him and ground against him again, feeling Steve shudder against him. Bucky’s hands tugged at the hems of Steve’s shirts and sweater, loosening them from his waistband and drifting over his exposed skin. “Want you so bad right now, Stevie…” They weren’t going to make it to the couch if Steve kept kissing him like that, thumbs stroking over the crests of his cheeks, staring at him with that _look_ , the one that Bucky dreamt about that gave him the shivers. “Just a minute. Just give me a little bit…”

“Not here,” Steve complained, but it wasn’t sincere, not with Bucky lapping and sucking little bruises into his neck, making Steve squirm against him. “Feel so good… you feel so _good_ …”

“Just a little taste. I just want a little taste of you, Stevie.” Steve could never refuse him anything, and he whined slightly at the feel of Bucky unbuttoning his pants and undoing his straining zipper. His cock was hard, pulsing and hot – the only part of him that stayed nice and warm – and twitching in Bucky’s grip. “Just wanna taste of you to tide me over… Steve let his thighs sag and drop open wide and watched Bucky tug his pants down below his hips, shifting him in his chair. Bucky breathed over him, eyes closing in pleasure as he gave him an experimental lap, breathing over his stiffened flesh. He teased the head with his tongue, moaning at his taste. 

“ _Bucky._ ” Steve’s voice was strained, almost unrecognizable. “God, Bucky, _please._ ” Ecstasy was written across Bucky’s features as he sucked the head of Steve’s cock between his lips, drawing on it slowly, humming around it, at how silky and plump it felt in his mouth. Gently, his fingers traced the contours of Steve’s balls, dusted with dark blond wiry curls, and those twitched, too, welcoming Bucky’s touch and expertise. Bucky moaned and hummed into his flesh, eyes drifting shut as he suckled him, and Steve expelled a shaky breath, clutching at Bucky’s hair. “You’re still cold… let’s get close to the heat.” Bucky’s mouth was still locked around him, but his eyes opened and gave him a smoldering stare, urging him to shut up and just enjoy it.

In that regard, at least, Steve wouldn’t argue with Bucky.

Steve was beautiful to him, creamy, slim thighs exposed, the dents of his narrow hips a perfect fit for Bucky’s thumbs as he gripped him close, the proud, rosy cock at it jutted up into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky made a desperate noise. He was conflicted, wanting to bring Steve off right there in the kitchen, but needing to take him closer to the space heater so they could both thaw. The blankets were already there, and there was room for him to stretch out and take his sweet time with Steve. But Steve was so silky and hot and solid in his mouth… it made him so reluctant to release him, and have to move him, when Steve was making those sounds, face lax with bliss. He felt how he was affecting Steve, knew Steve was trusting him fully with his pleasure, and that made Bucky glow.

His mouth slid off of him, and Steve gave him a look of confusion that was adorable. “Wait…”

“C’mere. Up we go!” He tugged Steve, still reeling and bleery, up to his feet, then scooped him up and wrapped Steve’s legs around his waist. Steve huffed a laugh.

“Really?” he accused.

“You gonna complain, Stevie?”

“Uh-uh.” Steve attacked his mouth, and Bucky tightened his grip on him as he carried him to the couch. It was warmer in the living room, thankfully, and when Bucky eased Steve down to the couch, they resumed their earlier positions, hands roaming over each other, prying off clothing and groping warm skin. They sank down onto the cushions and stretched out, skin on skin, and huddled beneath the comforters. Steve arched up against Bucky, hands twisting the covers as Bucky laved his throat.

“Want me to warm that up?” he teased, murmuring against his skin. “I’ll warm that up. This, too.” He toyed with Steve’s nipples, caressing and breathing over them, taking one sweet little bud into his mouth. “You feel so good, Stevie…”

“Only for you,” Steve rasped, tugging on handfuls of Bucky’s hair. “Only for you, Bucky.” Bucky shivered at the light scrape of Steve’s blunt nails down his back as he thrilled him, trailing his mouth hotly down his lean body, again finding his sex. It didn’t take them long to work each other back up to the fever pitch from the kitchen. Steve reached out toward the coffee table, awkwardly slapping around the surface until his hand landed on the small tin of Vaseline. He nudged Bucky with it.

“Open it up,” Bucky ordered around his flesh. The thrumming of his voice was tipping Steve over the edge. “Hurry…”

“I’m workin’ on it… oh, God, Buck…” He fumbled awkwardly with the cap, finally flicking it off onto the floor, and Bucky reached up half-blindly, fingers thrusting into the cool grease, and oh, there were his fingers, stroking him, gently separating his cheeks, already quivering with want… “ _Oh, God, Buck!_ ” His voice was desperate, dark and thick as syrup, and it sent delicious anticipation over Bucky’s nerve endings. Bucky’s finger slipped inside Steve’s hole, just as warm, soft and pliant as his mouth, and he groaned at how good Steve felt. He twisted and thrust up into him, preparing him, craving Steve’s heat wrapped around him. Bucky was sighing around him, head bobbing beneath the soft, well-worn quilt that Steve gripped in his hands, white-knuckling at the onslaught of pleasure. He felt the slight cramp of Bucky adding a second finger, but the burning eased as he found Steve’s sweet spot, giving it enough pressure to make him sing. Bucky fretted that the neighbors would hear them, but he didn’t want Steve to stop. There was no better sound in the world than Steve when he made love to him. Bucky tasted the salty precome slowly leaking from the head of his cock, and he lapped at it eagerly, but he knew Steve was too close. By the time he slid a third finger inside him, Steve was begging him, heels digging into Bucky’s back, his voice strained and pitchy. His lips definitely weren’t blue, Bucky noticed, pleased at how rosy they looked from their heated kisses. Steve’s skin was beautifully flushed from their combined heat and the friction of their contact.

He gave Steve one last, loving suck and slipped his fingers out from Steve’s hole, loose and ready for him. “Feel nice and warm, Stevie?”

“Just c’mere,” Steve huffed, tugging him up to meet him, and oh, how Bucky loved this, seeing Steve’s eyes dark with passion, feeling those hands tug at him and grip him so possessively. Steve surged up and kissed him hungrily while Bucky’s cock bumped against his entrance, teasing it. Steve reached down and fumbled for him, then gripped him, thumb stroking over the head to make Bucky gasp into his mouth. Steve wasn’t in the mood for delays. He lined them up, thrust his hips up, and pulled Bucky into him, engulfing him. Bucky’s eyes snapped open with the shock of being inside him, fully sheathed and throbbing while Steve flexed around him, thrusting up at him impatiently.

“Stevie… goddamn… “

“Just do it. _Please._ ” Steve grabbed Bucky’s ass, squeezing it and urging him to move. He rocked up against him and sucked the side of Bucky’s throat, scraping it with his teeth.

“Anything you want, Stevie… anything you _want…_ ” He began to thrust, and it was gentle at first, with Bucky still focused on keeping them both bundled and warm beneath covers and sharing heat. But Steve was squeezing him, contracting around him, chanting his name, hands caressing him everywhere. He picked up the pace, and if his hips began to thrust a little more firmly, shunting down with a little more impact, working little grunts of pleasure out of Steve’s throat, then it couldn’t be helped.

And if Bucky had Steve practically screaming a few minutes later, then you couldn’t blame him. The covers ended up on the floor, and Bucky gripped Steve’s hips, thumbs pressed into those divots again, thrusting into him hard and deep. Steve was practically bent in half, legs thrown over Bucky’s shoulders. Sweat glistened on their skin and the living room smelled like sex. Steve gripped the cushion behind his head, white-knuckling it, eyes shut and mouth open, cursing and panting.

“…you. Love. You. Love you. Loveyouloveyouloveyou…”

That was all Bucky needed to finish. It was all he _ever_ needed. Just Steve’s voice in his ears, embedded in his heat, telling him that Bucky was his everything. Bucky’s body stiffened and he slammed into Steve those last few thrusts until his climax hit him, uncoiling and bursting from him in hot waves. Steve tugged him down and kissed him, swallowing down his cries, his cock trapped between them as Bucky thrust, and he came moments after, painting them both with hot, damp streaks. They shuddered against each other, gripping each other tightly as they rocked it out. They sagged together into the cushions, breathless and spent. Bucky felt Steve’s hands stroking over him, and his entire body felt like jelly. He felt Steve reaching down for something, fumbling again, and Bucky realized he wanted the blankets. He reached for them and tugged them over the two of them haphazardly before slipping free of Steve’s cleft. Steve winced at his withdrawal, but he sighed as Bucky settled down against him. Steve’s legs twined around him, and he petted Bucky like a cat. Bucky’s breaths were ragged, interrupted once by the weak press of his lips against Steve’s chest. Steve smiled, shifting to pull the covers up to Bucky’s neck. 

“Love you too, Stevie.”

“Don’t get all mushy about it. Sheesh.” Bucky snickered and pinched him. Steve kissed his forehead, fingers curling into his hair. 

They lay like that for another few minutes, boneless and lingering in each other’s heat and heartbeats. They eventually changed into bedclothes, reheated their cocoa and returned to the couch with their mugs, bundled together and content.

**Author's Note:**

> This is clichéd as hell. I know. I get it. But I loved that prompt. I picture Bucky using that "let me keep you warm" line a LOT.


End file.
